


The ice was getting thinner under me and you

by purplewhippetshirt



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky didn't fall, Hurt Steve Rogers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Not Captain America: The Winter Soldier Compliant, Panic Attacks, Protective Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:01:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25331314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purplewhippetshirt/pseuds/purplewhippetshirt
Summary: “That's not the only thing.”Bucky looked up at her expectantly. Natasha furrowed her brows, fidgeting with a lose thread in her sweater. Bucky frowned. Natasha never fidgeted.“What is it?”he urged.Natasha looked him in the eyes and placed her hand on his knee.“James. He is alive.”---AU in which Bucky didn't fall off the train, Steve still crashed the plane but he didn't wake up alone.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 78
Kudos: 307





	1. And the silence, it became so clear, that you had long ago disappeared

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my first multi-chaptered fic in years!
> 
> A couple words before we begin:  
> 1\. I rated this story as Mature since there will be some violence but I personally wouldn't see it as explicit. If you think any different, let me know and I will adjust the rating!
> 
> 2\. All chapters are already written, just not edited. Updates will come every couple days, I think. 
> 
> 3\. The title of the story is from the song "The ice is getting thinner" by Death Cab for Cutie. The chapter title is from the song "Bixby Canyon Bridge", also by Death Cab for Cutie. All chapter titles will be lyrics from their songs, since that's just what I listened to while writing. 
> 
> 4\. And lastly, English is not my first language, so if you find any mistakes, feel free to let me know and I will correct them!
> 
> And now, enjoy!

_-1945-_

“Come in. This is Captain Rogers. Do you read me?”

“Captain Rogers, what is your-”

Bucky pushed Morita out of the seat. ”Steve, are you alright?”

“Bucky, Schmidt's dead,” Steve answered through the radio.

Bucky closed his eyes and let out a breath of relief.

“Alright, that's good. Where are you? What are your coordinates?”

Bucky was met with silence.

“Steve? What is it?”

“I can't land it, Buck, I'm sorry.”

“Steve, what-”

“I'll have to force it down. It's going to fast and it's heading for New York.”

Bucky winced and rested his forehead against the mic.

“Shut up, Steve. Shut up, we can work this out. I'll get Stark-”

“Buck.” Steve's voice was shaky and small.

Bucky felt as if he was fourteen again, kneeling next to Steve's bed in the small Brooklyn apartment. Steve's hand in his, too hot and too clammy. Fever, the flu, Pneumonia or whatever other disease was pushing Steve too close to death once again, but he always fought back.

“Steve, please don't do this,” he whispered.

“I think this is it. The end of the line.”

The other people standing around him forgotten, Bucky let out a sob.

“Fuck, Steve, please-” Bucky's pleas were interrupted by loud static.

A hand landed on Bucky's shoulder and he looked up to see Peggy, tears rolling down her cheeks as well.

“I'm sorry, Sergeant.”

Bucky returned to Steve and his old apartment in Brooklyn. The war had been won and the world was celebrating. Bucky sat down his bags. His family had somehow kept the place over the years, always hoping the two would come back.

Instead it was just Bucky.

He sighed and let his fingers slide over the dusty kitchen counter. Memories flooded his head. Steve's eyes, Steve's laughter and his voice. Wherever he looked, he saw Steve.

A stack of notebooks laid on the small, round table in front of the window facing the street.

Bucky took the bottle of expensive whiskey Stark had gifted him for winning the war out of his bag and sat down.

The first page was filled with scenery sketches from various places over Brooklyn. The street they grew up on and the run-down bar on 68th. Then there was Bucky, smiling, sleeping, cooking. Every page was filled with his face, every line carefully, and precisely drawn onto the paper.

Bucky let out a frustrated scream and hurled the book against the door. It was not fair. Steve never was supposed to go to war. He was supposed to stay at home, stay in art school, stay _safe_.

Before the war Bucky had always known Steve would die before him, almost had so many times. But then Bucky got drafted and a small hope in him grew that maybe, _maybe_ , Steve could outlive him. It was a terrible thought and Bucky wanted to get back to Steve every second while he was gone. But if he was to die in the trenches, far away from Brooklyn, he thought it might have been better than to see Steve die in front of him.

But then that idiot got the serum and Bucky had gotten more used to the thought that he would die before him. Fuck, Steve had become superhuman, there was no way Bucky was going to bite the bullet before him.

But here he was. Alone. Steve dead, laying somewhere in the arctic. They didn't even have a body to bury. Stark had said he was going to find him but Bucky hadn't listened. He didn't care. His best friend was dead, if the casket was empty or not made no difference for him. He would never want to look at a headstone that had the name _'Steven Grant Rogers'_ on it.

Bucky took another sip of the alcohol and made his way towards the small bedroom. He could hear people cheering on the street as he curled into himself on Steve's bed. He blocked out the noise and drifted into a restless sleep filled with bombs, planes and the painful sound of static.

_-1948-_

“The Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow and Peggy smiled.

“S.H.I.E.L.D. for short. Howard and I are launching it in January. An agency to protect the US from all possible threats. Like HYDRA and outside forces like the tesseract.”

Bucky rubbed a hand over his face and pinched the bridge of his nose. A sharp twinge of pain surged through his chest at the mention of the tesseract. That damn thing that cost Steve his life.

“And what do you want me for?” he asked.

Peggy smiled gently and laid her hand on top of his on the table.

“To come back. To fight-”

“I'm not a soldier anymore, war is over,” Bucky interrupted.

“Not as a soldier.” Peggy shook her head. ”An agent. You wouldn't be one the front lines. Collecting data, going undercover. You saw what HYDRA could do, there is more out there that we need to stop.”

Bucky looked down. He liked his current job at the local car factory. It was easy and good money. He didn't have to think about the war, about Steve and about Zola's experiments.

Peggy's grip on his hand hardened and she searched for his eyes.

“Come on, Barnes. You're one of the best snipers I know. This isn't you, you're a fighter and you know it. I know Steve would have-”

“You don't know anything,” Bucky hissed and withdrew his hand sharply.

Peggy lowered her gaze and folded her hands politely in front of her.

“I apologize,” she said honestly.

Bucky stayed quiet and stared at her with no expression.

She cleared her throat and then raised to her feet.

“Will you at least think about it?”

Bucky could hear his mom yelling at him for being rude in his head and forced a small nod out of himself.

Peggy made her way to the front door but hesitated with her hand on the handle. She looked back at Bucky sitting at the kitchen table.

“I really am sorry for your loss, Sergeant. Steve was-,” she swallowed, ”Steve was a good man.”

Five years, in 1953, later he ended up joining after all. He figured Zolas experiments did something to him because even when everyone around him started aging, he stayed the same. He didn't let himself think about what that would mean.

_-1993-_

“Barnes, come in.”

“Barnes here, I'm almost done,” Bucky answered into the small radio attached to his right shoulder.

“You've got incoming, get out of there as fast as possible.”

Bucky stopped and listened. He could hear people approaching fast. He counted four different pair of footsteps.

Quickly he continued to type into the keyboard. He was almost in. The footsteps got louder.

“Davis, I'm in. Sending the Intel over now,” Bucky hushed into his radio, then he stepped back and pressed himself against the wall next to the door.

A second later the heavy door swung open and four heavily armed men stormed in.

Bucky rushed forward and grabbed the man nearest to him. With a sharp jab of his elbow he knocked him back and tore the gun from his hand. One, two secure shots through the heads of the other two soldiers. The third had thrown himself behind the console. The first man had come back to his senses and stroke out but Bucky ducked and turned in one swift motion. He lodged a bullet in the man's abdomen and then hauled him before himself as a shield. The man behind the desk started rattling shots at him.

Bucky let out a grown as he got hit in his arm that was wrapped around the other man's throat.

With squinted eyes he searched for the head behind the console and aimed.

“Hail HYDRA,” grunted the man before him.

Bucky's eyes flickered to the man's hand extended before him. Panic filled his bones as he pushed the man away from him. He flung himself out of the room into the hallway of the bunker. But the man had already pulled the pin of the grenade.

A hot wave rushed over Bucky and he felt himself crash into the concrete wall. His ears were ringing and a hot searing pain radiated from his left side. Blood pooled down his face and he couldn't take a breath.

A voice fought through the static in his head and he turned his head towards the radio on his shoulder. A new wave of pain erupted and he bit back a groan.

Black spots dotted his vision as he tried to find the source of the blinding pain. He looked down his left side, a scream crawled up his throat but got stuck halfway, and he was choking on blood instead.

His left shoulder was covered in blood and where is arm used to be was a suffocating nothingness.

_-2008-_

His new place was bigger, brighter and nearer to SHIELD headquarters. It wasn't Brooklyn but it only made sense to move closer to work.

That's what he tried to tell himself anyways.

“It's nice,” Natasha said as she looked out of the big window in the living room. You could see a busy Manhattan street and even the tip of the Empire State Building.

Bucky shrugged and planted himself on the couch, handing Clint a beer.

“SHIELD got it for me. I don't think I could ever afford a place like this.”

“Well, you're the super-agent, you deserve it.”

Bucky shot Clint a sharp look.

“I'm not a 'super-agent'.”

Clint snorted and even Natasha glanced at him unimpressed.

“Sure, normal humans usually look forty when they are ninety years old,” Clint argued.

Bucky sighed,”I don't wanna talk about this again. I would rather eat my own weight in sushi and gossip about the rookies that just got in.”

Natasha grinned.

“I heard one of them called Coulson 'Dad' by accident.”

“Well, who doesn't want to call Coulson 'Daddy' at least at one point on their life,” Clint responded and Bucky groaned, his face contorted in disgust. Natasha kicked Clint against his bandaged shin and rolled her eyes as he howled in exaggerated pain.

Bucky chuckled and raised the beer back up to his lips.


	2. You may tire of me, as our December sun is setting, 'cause I'm not who I used to be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's the next chapter!
> 
> The chapter title is from the song "Brothers on a Hotel Bed" by Death Cab for Cutie. 
> 
> Again, if you find any mistakes, feel free to let me know. 
> 
> Enjoy!

With a wince Bucky fumbled for the keys in his jacket. The sharp pain from the bullet wound in his thigh just added to the headache that came with a huge shiner just over his left eye. Finally he managed to open up his apartment door and shuffled inside.

“I gave you a key for emergencies,” he said while he slipped out of his combat boots.

He heard Natasha get up from her chair and rummage around in his kitchen. With a groan Bucky collapsed onto the couch and closed his eyes.

“This is an emergency,” Natasha presented him a pack of peas that he quickly pressed against his bruised forehead.

Natasha said down next to him and he could feel her eyes on him.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. The mission just escalated halfway through and we had to get out rather quickly and not very quietly,” Bucky responded.

Than he turned his head to look at her.

“What's the emergency?”

Natasha lowered her gaze and took a deep breath. She stood up and grabbed a folder with the SHIELD logo on the front from the kitchen table.

“They asked me to show this to you since me and Clint are kind of your only friends-” 

“Thanks.” 

“And we didn't know how you would receive this information.”

Natasha handed him the file and sat back down. Bucky peered at her curiously and opened the brown covers. Scientific records and medical files that Bucky didn't even try to understand were tucked neatly inside but at the top left corner there were three pictures attached.

The ground fell under Bucky's feet and he forgot how to breathe as he looked at them. With shaky fingers he pried of the pin and raised the first picture to his eyes.

It was Steve. His face and torso, totally emerged in ice but definitely him. The body had been preserved perfectly and he looked just like he had in Bucky's last memories of him.

Bucky felt tears crawling up to his eyes but forced them back down.

“Who found him? The Stark kid?”

“Some scientists. But he is now at SHIELD,” Natasha answered quietly.

The second photo was of the shield. Also covered in ice. Bucky swallowed around the lump in his throat.

He had always known that some day they would find Steve. And still he wasn't prepared to see his friend like this, exactly how he did back in '45. Bucky closed his eyes and let the grief wash over him for a moment. He let himself think back and remember Steve and how he was. How he laughed and talked. He remembered the last moment he shared with him, talking to him on the radio when he died. And now they had found his body. After seventy years Steve could finally be buried.

“That's not the only thing.”

Bucky looked up at her expectantly. Natasha furrowed her brows, fidgeting with a lose thread in her sweater. Bucky frowned. Natasha never fidgeted.

“What is it?” he urged.

Natasha looked him in the eyes and placed her hand on his knee.

“James. He is alive.”

Bucky stared onto the monitor that showed the small, bright room. He knew Clint was talking to him but he couldn't hear him over his heart pumping furiously.

There he was. Steve. Dressed in a white shirt and khakis. He didn't look a day older from when he went under.

“They pumped him up with a lot of anesthesia when he got thawed but the effect is already wearing of. He should be waking up any minute,” Clint said next to him.

Bucky raised a shaking hand and ran it through his hair. He had cut it to the length it had been in the 40s and shaved the beard he had kept over the years. He still didn't look as he did back then. A couple scars decorated his face and wrinkles had appeared around his eyes and mouth. Not to forget the metal arm. But Bucky wanted to make sure Steve recognized him.

“Can I go in?” he asked.

Clint looked around, ”I'm gonna ask Phil, he should be around here somewhere.”

At that moment a big swing door opened at Fury accompanied by Coulson and a female agent entered.

“Sir, I don't think that's a smart idea,” Coulson tried to coerce Fury.

“Not my orders,” Fury replied simply and then nodded at the female agent, ”Get ready.”

She wasn't dressed in the usual SHIELD attire but rather that looked something like someone would wear in the forties. Bucky frowned.

“What's going on here?” he asked and stepped to Fury and Coulson.

“Ah, Agent Barnes. The Captain should wake up any minute. We have orders to make him believe he is still in the forties.” Coulson's disdain of this plan was clear in his tone.

Bucky stared at him stunned at then opened his mouth to protest but Fury raised his hand to stop his objections.

“As I said, not my orders. We will have to go along.”

“How long will we make him believe this bullshit?” Bucky asked grimly. This plan was cruel. Steve would believe he was still in his old life just to then have it snatched away again. How could he trust SHIELD or anyone involved after this?

“Not long. Just until we know how he is doing. Physically but mostly mentally,” Fury answered.

Bucky wanted to snap back but Clint's reassuring hand on his arm stopped him. How well do they think someone will do mentally after spending seventy _fucking_ years frozen in ice, his entire life just slipping away?

The group made their way back to the monitor. They could see the female agent waiting in front of the door and Bucky could hear a baseball game playing through the radio on a dresser.

Bucky snorted.

“You know, this is not going to work. He's gonna figure it out in seconds,” he whispered to Clint.

“Why do you think that?” Clint asked curiously.

Bucky pointed at the female agent,”The hair is too long, no woman would wear a tie like that back then and her bra is all wrong. Plus,” Bucky smiled gently, ”He knows that game. We went together.”

For a moment he was back in 1941, Steve's small body next to him. They were eating Hot Dogs while cheering for the Dodgers. Bucky remembered how hard they had worked to scrape together enough money for the tickets but mostly he remembered Steve's smile as the Dodgers had won 8 to 4.

“Sir, he is waking up,” someone said and Bucky came back to reality.

His breathing stopped as he watched Steve's blue eyes open. He had to clasp his hands behind his back to stop himself from touching the monitor as Steve said up and looked around. He seemed so scared, so lost.

The female agent entered the room but Bucky couldn't focus on the conversation. His only focus was his best friend, standing, talking, _breathing_.

“Fuck,” he breathed, ”He is alive.”

This time Bucky didn't stop his eyes from tearing up and Clint gripped his shoulder in a comforting gesture.

But then all hell broke loose as Steve crashed through the fake wall. Bucky let a small chuckle escape his lips, that was his boy, saw through SHIELD's bullshit in seconds.

“All agents, code 13! I repeat. All sgents, code 13!” cracked through the comms and everyone around him sprung into action.

Fury turned to Bucky, ”Come on, agent. I think now it might be best if he sees you.”

He followed the director out of the building into a car and they sped to Time's Square. Multiple black SUV's circled Steve who looked around in shook.

Fury opened the door and stepped out.

“At ease, soldier! Look, I'm sorry about that little show back there, but we thought it best to break it to you slowly,” he said.

Steve looked at him helplessly.

“Break what?” he asked and Bucky's heart broke. He couldn't just sit here any longer and watch Steve fall apart. He moved to open the door but someone behind him held him back.

“You've been asleep, Cap. For almost seventy years.”

Steve turned around him in shock. His shoulders were shaking and he looked so lost in the sea of people and skyscrapers.

“You gonna be okay?” Fury asked and Bucky almost rolled his eyes. He really couldn't look at this for another second.

“Fuck this,” he mumbled and shook of the restraining hand on his arm. Bucky opened the door and stepped out onto the street.

Fury shot him an unreadable glance but stepped back to let Bucky take his place. Steve still had his back turned towards him.

“Steve?” Bucky was proud of how confident his voice sounded. He sure as hell didn't feel like it.

Steve's whole body went rigid, then he slowly turned around. He stared at Bucky with an uncertain expression for a moment then a sob escaped his throat.

“Buck,” he exhaled.

And screw this, Bucky made his way over to him in a couple big steps and engulfed him in a tight hug.

“Hey Punk,” he whispered into Steve shoulder, tears finally leaving his eyes.

Steve requited the embrace with no hesitation and _fuck_ , Bucky was full-on crying now.

“God, I though you were dead. All those years I thought- Shit, Steve, I'm so sorry-”

Steve pulled back and looked at him with red-rimmed eyes.

“You got old, Jerk. What year is this?” he touched the corners of Bucky's eyes to wipe the tears away.

Bucky shook his head and laughed.

“It's April 15th,” he took a deep breath,”2012”

Steve closed his eyes and wavered on his feet.

“Fuck.”

Bucky gripped his shoulders,”Hey, but you're gonna be alright, okay? I'm here, you're not alone.”

“I know, I know,” Steve mumbled and buried his face in his hands,”It's just- 70 years, Buck. _Seventy years_.”

Suddenly Steve was going down, lowering himself to sit on the asphalt. Bucky's heart clenched, he looked so lost and so small sitting on Time Square, cars and people around him. A man lost in time.

Quietly Bucky positioned himself next to Steve, looking at his friend worriedly.

“You're going to be okay.”

Steve moved in with Bucky, of course. SHIELD offered him to get his own place but Steve refused. Bucky was glad, he didn't think he could let Steve out of his eyesight for one minute.

“Here we are,” Bucky made a welcoming gesture as they stood in his living room. Steve looked around. He was still wearing the white shirt and khakis and in his right hand he held his shield.

Bucky felt nervous all of a sudden. Steve hadn't really said anything one the ride from SHIELD to here. His eyes had stared through the car window, looking at the city in wonder. Bucky tried to recall the old New York where he had grown up and figured it must be quite a shock to go from dirty streets to huge skyscrapers and lights everywhere.

Steve walked through the window and looked out onto the skyline.

“We are not in Brooklyn,” he stated.

“No, this was closer to work. But we can find a place in Brooklyn if you want,” he added quickly.

Steve didn't answer.

“Oh, I have some things to show you.”

Bucky disappeared into his bedroom and crouched to get the box from under his bed. Then he took three notebooks from the bookshelf and carried everything back to living room. With a heavy thump he placed it onto the floor and sat down next to it.

“Over the years most of your stuff went to museums but I kept some things,” he explained.

Steve slowly made his way to him and sat down cross-legged.

“Museums?” he asked in disbelief.

Bucky looked at him sheepishly.

“You're somewhat of a legend, Steve. Pretty sure there are also one or two monuments somewhere.”

Steve grabbed one of the books and opened it.

“My sketchbooks. You kept them?”

“A few. Also some photos. Here, I put them in an album,” Bucky opened the box and heaved out a big photo album. Steve shuffled next to him so he could look at the pictures in Bucky's lap.

Steve's mother Sarah smiled up at him, her arms around a frail, eight year old Steve. Steve and Bucky standing in the street in front of their apartments. Slowly they made their way through pictures of their childhood, laughing at memories of them as kids. Then Bucky turned a page and was presented with a photo of him, Steve and the Howling Commandos. It was right after they were founded, before their first mission. 69 years for Bucky, two for Steve.

Steve's fingers slid over the smiling faces of the commandos.

“Are they all-?” Steve didn't finish the question but Bucky knew what he meant.

He swallowed. “Yeah. I'm sorry.”

Steve looked up at him. “Why aren't you?”

Bucky shrugged, ”We think the experiments Zola did to me in '43 have some similar effects as your serum. I still age, just slower. I also heal more quickly.”

Steve nodded and grabbed Bucky's right hand, “I'm glad.”

“There is something else I need to show you,” Bucky said.

He got up and hesitated with his fingers around the hem of his shirt. He didn't want to frighten Steve but he couldn't keep this from him any longer. With a deep breath he pulled off his shirt in one swift motion. Steve gasped visibly at his scarred shoulder and stump where the prosthetic was attached. He didn't want to shock Steve with the metal arm right when he woke up so he had turned on the fake skin. He usually left it how it was, metal and obviously not a real arm. He had never felt the need to hide and Clint always said how badass he looked with a _'fucking metal arm, dude'_. Bucky pressed a small bump right over his elbow that was disguised as a birthmark and the fake skin flickered off.

A careful hand hovered over his upper arm.

“Can I?” he asked and Bucky nodded.

Steve's fingers glided over the metal, delicately feeling the curves and plates. Then he wandered over to Bucky's torso and trailed the long scars running from his shoulders all down to his chest. Bucky couldn't help a small shudder going through him and he was suddenly aware of how close Steve was.

“How did it happened?” Steve questioned and looked up at him. His hand was still resting right under Bucky's left shoulder.

“A grenade in 1993. Howard's son actually made this arm a couple years back. It's pretty cool.”

“A grenade? I thought the war ended in Novem- in 1945?”

Bucky had given Steve a quick rundown of the end of World War Two on their way to the apartment. He actually hadn't been sure if Steve had been listening, seemingly too occupied with the new view of the city.

Bucky sighed. “Let's sit down. I'll tell you what you missed.”

And so they sat down and Bucky told Steve about the last seventy years as good as he could remember. About the end of the war, about HYDRA, SHIELD and the Vietnam War. He told him about computers and phones and colorful television, 9/11 and Obama. At first Steve was quiet, just took everything in, but slowly he started to ask questions.

They sat on that couch talking for hours and dosed off when the sun started creeping back in, leaning against each other, Steve's head on Bucky's shoulder and his arm pressed against Bucky's.

It was the best sleep Bucky had gotten since 1945.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are very much appreciated :)


	3. 'Cause behind its door there's nothing to keep my fingers warm and all I find are souvenirs from better times

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's Chapter three! Title is from the song "Title and Registration" by Death Cab for Cutie.  
> If you find any mistakes, let me know!  
> And thank you for all the sweet comments under the last chapter <3  
> Enjoy!

They spent the next two weeks inside the apartment. Bucky left for groceries or for a run sometimes and he always offered Steve to come with him but Steve claimed he wasn't ready yet. Bucky wanted him to take all the time he needed, of course, but he was worried about his friend. Steve didn't talk or eat much. Bucky had given him the guest bedroom but he didn't think Steve slept a lot. Then again, the man had just gotten out of a war and a seventy year long sleep somewhere in the arctic.

After Bucky had explained Google to Steve, he spent almost all day in front of the computer, reading about the past, only looking up to ask Bucky a question. Bucky tried to answer it as best as he could but sometimes Steve got too deep into a topic where even Bucky had to look up some things.

Bucky knocked on Steve's door and opened it slowly when he heard a quiet _'yes'_. Steve was sitting on the small table in front of the window, staring at the laptop. It wasn't even 6am yet.

“Hey Steve, Fury called, I should get over to SHIELD immediately, it's somewhat of an emergency,” Bucky said while bending down to tie his combat boots.

Steve turned at that.

“An emergency? Should I come?”

Bucky hesitated. Director Fury had said to bring Steve but Bucky really felt like Steve wasn't ready yet. Fuck, he couldn't even go out for groceries, a mission was way too early. But Fury had really sounded urgent and he knew that Steve would want Bucky to be honest with him.

“Well, he did say you should come, but I don't know if that's such a good idea,” Bucky straightened up again, ”You really don't have to come. Take all the time you need, you don't owe anyone and they can handle themselves.”

Steve frowned and seemed to really think it over for a moment. Then he got up and picked up his shield from where it had been leaning against the wall.

“Let's go then.”

The next couple of days passed in somewhat of a blur. He remembered hearing something about the tesseract, Loki, Clint apparently being mind-controlled and Coulson dying. And then he suddenly found himself in New York fighting against aliens next to Clint and Nat, an Asgardian Prince, some green monster, Howard's kid and his best friend who had been dead three weeks ago. It was all very confusing.

Steve was in his element though. He had thrown himself into the battle and Bucky was happy that Steve had gotten out of his quiet, contemplating state but he was seriously afraid he was going to get himself killed. He had just gotten him back, losing him again was simply not an option.

But God, Bucky had missed fighting next to Steve. Whenever he heard his voice through the comms or saw the shield flashing up in the sea of weird alien things, he was hit with another wave of disbelief that his friend was actually back.

“Get out of your head, James, you can still gaze at him after this is done,” Natasha hissed next to him just in time for him to break up his focus on Steve and put a bullet inside the alien running at full speed at him. He shook his head, he really had to stop worrying about Steve if they wanted to win this thing.

And then they did. Tony flew a nuclear missile through a wormhole, died, came back and the Hulk beat the shit out of Loki. After all was done they were sitting in a Schwarma place, combat gear still on. Bucky ached all over and he was pretty sure he had cracked a couple ribs but the others also didn't look so good. He shot a glance at Steve sitting next to him. The man was resting his head on his fist, eyes closed and not touching his food.

Bucky nudged him with his foot under the table.

“You good?” he asked as Steve raised his head to look at him.

The other nodded and resumed to his cowering position. Bucky looked at his food and decided that he probably couldn't eat another bite without throwing it up again.

With a grown he stood up and laid a hand on Steve's shoulder.

“Alright, I think we're gonna head home,” he said to the others and helped Steve to his feet.

Tony balled up his napkin and threw it in the mess on the table.

“I'm gonna copy Brokeback Mountain over here and head home. I desperately need a shower and a strong whiskey. See you all tomorrow at the debriefing?”

Steve frowned.

“Who's Brokeback Mou-” Bucky cut him off with a shake of his head.

“I'll show you some other day. Come on.”

Holding onto each other they made their way through the destroyed streets to their apartment that was luckily in the part of Manhattan that had survived the attack.

Inside, Steve let himself fall back onto the mattress, the shield falling useless to the floor.

“You gotta get out of your suit, Steve,” Bucky said.

Steve groaned in response and started peeling himself out of his upper uniform piece but gave up halfway through.

“I'm so tired, Buck. Let's just leave it,” he whispered and let his eyes slip closed again.

Bucky sighed and then went to help Steve.

“You don't sleep much, do you?” he asked while sliding off the thick fabric, careful not to touch the bruises that were already starting to fade.

“M'afraid I'll wake up seventy years later again,” Bucky caught Steve's eyes looking at him, hazed over with exhaustion, ”Without you this time.”

Bucky halted at that.

“You won't, alright? I'm looking after you and I'm never, _never_ going to lose you again.”

Bucky kept his gaze strong on Steve.

When Steve was finally out of the suit and dressed in a lose shirt and sweatpants, Bucky turned to leave the room but he stopped in the door frame.

“I'm sorry, you know. For not finding you in the ice.” The guilt he had been trying to hold down for the past three weeks rose up and made him look down to the floor.

“Howard- He looked, all his life pretty much. But I- I just couldn't. I thought you were dead and I just couldn't find you _dead_ ,” a bitter laugh escaped his throat, ”Turns out you weren't. And I left you there, alone. I- I don't know how to make it up to you.”

Steve was quiet for a moment and Bucky almost turned to leave, thinking Steve was asleep when he heard his quiet voice emerge from the bed.

“It's not your fault.”

Bucky shook his head.

“Steve-”

“No,” the voice was stronger now and suddenly there was a hand gripping his, tightly, forcing him to look at Steve. He was kneeling on the bed, his face illuminated by the streetlights outside and expression so open and honest.

“It's not your fault and I won't have yourself feeling guilty. There was literally no way you could have known I survived that crash. _I_ was sure I was going to die. It's not your fault. You are here now and that's all that matters.”

Bucky looked at him and Steve had a small smile on his lips.

“Sleep here tonight. I'm not going to leave you again and I need to know you are still here when I wake up.”

Bucky swallowed and then nodded. Quickly he got out of his suit and then climbed next to Steve into the warm bed. He closed his eyes, breathing in the familiar scent of his best friend. And if Steve was still awake when Bucky's hand found his was to his chest just to feel him breathe, he didn't say anything.

Bucky didn't know what to make of the Avengers Initiative. Sure, he was a team player, always had been, but something about two enhanced soldiers, a guy that literally turns into a green rage monster when he gets mad, an alien god, an eccentric genius and two assassins on a team together seemed a little _risky_ to him.

He knew Steve wasn't really on board with it either but that might just have to do with the fact that he had been fighting World War Two a month ago.

Currently they were all sitting around a desk in the SHIELD headquarters, minus Thor who was still off in _space_ , apparently, while Fury explained to them what exactly the Avengers were supposed to do.

“A problem arises. Aliens, like Loki, or enhanced beings here on earth. Anything that might be a little too big for us, you go deal with it. SHIELD would handle the when and where, point you to the fight and then you just do your thing.”

Bucky frowned. That didn't seem very well thought out.

Stark voiced his thoughts.

“So we are your what, guard dogs? You just point in the direction and we beat up whoever that might be?”

“We are of course hoping the Avengers and SHIELD will work together. We will help you out. Whatever you need, training grounds, weapons, labs,” he looked at Banner who was still looking terribly exhausted, ”And you will help us out. It's not very complex. We just think it's better if a group of people with your skill set work together.”

“And who would be the leader? Spangles over there?” Stark asked and pointed to Steve who had been staring at the desk the entire meeting, barely looking up.

At the nickname he startled a bit and looked around the room as if he had just realized where he was.

Stark snorted, ”Yeah, I don't think so.”

“I think he handled the situation yesterday pretty well,” Fury countered.

Bucky looked at him in disbelief.

“You are not seriously thinking Steve is ready for more fighting? Especially leading?”

Fury only raised an unimpressed eyebrow and Bucky slammed his palm down on the table.

“It has been three _fucking_ weeks since he woke up and you are seriously thinking he is in the right condition to-”

Steve laid a hand over his and stopped Bucky's ranting with a pleading look. Pressing his lips together, Bucky said down again and settled for piercing Fury with angry stares.

“We don't have to join, right?” Clint asked.

He had been, same as Steve, silent during the debrief. Natasha had explained to Bucky that Loki's mind-control had really taken a toll on him and he was in a pretty bad shape. Bucky could only imagine what that be like, to loose control over your own body and head.

“Of course not. It's all voluntarily,” Fury answered.

“Can we maybe have a moment to talk about this? Just us?”

Fury nodded at Natasha's question and he left the room together with Hill and the other agents who had been present.

“I don't know about you, but I'm not so sure about this. I'm not really keen on being SHIELD's lap dog,” Stark said.

“As Fury said, we would be working _together_. I think it's not really that bad of an idea. We managed Loki, who knows what we could do with a little experience,” Natasha retorted.

Banner nodded at that.

“She's right. I think we work best if we work together.”

Bucky felt Steve sit up next to him.

“I think we should do it. If we can protect innocent lives, it's our job to do that,” Steve had put on the Captain America face and looked at everyone seriously.

Bucky gripped his friends upper arm and turned him a little away from the table.

“Steve, you don't have to do this. I think maybe you should wait a little before-”

“I waited for seventy years, Bucky,” Steve hissed and jerked his arm out of Bucky's hold.

“So, we're doing this? Seriously?” Stark questioned.

“Who's in?” Natasha asked and raised her hand.

Clint, Banner and Steve raised theirs as well. After looking at Steve, Bucky sighed and lifted his hand, too.

Stark groaned and rolled his eyes dramatically.

“Peer pressure always got the best of me. Alright, I guess I don't have anything better to do anyways, but,” he pointed his pen in a demanding gesture, ”I'm designing you all new suits so you don't bleed all over my couch.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, ”Your couch?”

“We are a team now, aren't we? You're all moving into my tower, no arguments allowed. We need movie nights, for Team bonding.”

Bucky drove his hands over his face. What had he gotten himself into again?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! We're halfway through now :)  
> Comments and Kudos are appreciated.


	4. If you feel discouraged when there's a lack of color here, please don't worry, Lover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter four! It's getting a little gayer and a lot sadder! Hang in there, guys.  
> Also, a quick trigger warning, there is a description of a panic attack at the end of the chapter. If that triggers you, maybe don't read this one.  
> Chapter title is from the song "A Lack of Color" by Death Cab For Cutie.  
> If you find any mistakes, let me know.  
> Enjoy!

Bucky's bedroom in Stark Tower was bigger than the first apartment Steve and him had lived in together in Brooklyn. It had a window front that took up an entire wall and a balcony. The bathroom was equipped with a shower _and_ a bathtub. Bucky felt really out of place standing on the nice, dark-wood floor.

He heard a soft knock and Steve stuck his head through the door.

“Dude, I have working AC,” he exclaimed, his eyes wide in wonder.

Bucky grinned.

“This is crazy, huh? Nothing like our old apartment back in Brooklyn. God, that was a shithole,” he snickered.

The giddy look vanished from Steve's face and he frowned.

“That's _home_ , Buck. I would take that apartment over this any second.”

“Shit, Steve, I'm sorry,” Bucky apologized quickly, ”I didn't think- I mean, I haven't been there in so long, I just-”

Steve made a discarding hand gesture. “It's fine, Buck. I know what you mean.”

Steve disappeared again and Bucky cursed himself. He let himself fall onto the king size bed and groaned into his hands.

“Trouble in paradise?”

Bucky startled and turned around. Natasha was smiling at him and then sat down next him. Bucky sighed and looked up at the high ceiling.

“I don't know what to do with him. It's like, one moment I feel like I finally got him to get out of his head and maybe enjoy this century just a little bit, and the next he closes off again. Or I say something stupid and scare him away.”

Natasha just hummed.

“When you said he was alive, that was all I cared about. I thought I had finally my best friend back. I mean, it's Steve, you know. He's-,” Bucky struggled to find the right word, ”He's _Steve_.” He looked up at Natasha trying to use his eyes to convey what he meant but she was already smiling knowingly.

She placed a comforting hand between his shoulder blades and drew small circles there.

“Give him time. Don't push too much, just be there for him. Whatever he needs, just be there. I think he doesn't know what he is doing, either. You will figure it out sooner than later.”

Apparently movie nights hadn't just been a joke to Stark, because two days after everyone had moved in, JARVIS, who still scared the living shit out of Steve, announced that every Avenger should come to the main floor.

A long table was filled with all sorts of take-out and Clint was already going to town on a large cheese pizza when Bucky and Steve entered.

Stark extended his arms and stepped to the side to make space for the two soldiers.

“Welcome, welcome. Now that you have finally arrived, the feast can properly begin.”

Bucky turned to see Bruce and Natasha already sitting on the big couch, each having a plate in their hand.

“I think we are watching Star Wars,” Clint said through a mouth full of pizza as he made his way to Natasha. Dark circles were still a constant feature under his eyes and he wasn't talking as much as he used to but Bucky was glad to see his friend slowly coming back over the last couple days. Natasha had said that he was going to therapy a lot and was off-duty for now.

“I don't know what any of this is,” Steve whispered as he stared at the wide range of food from Thailand, China, Mexico, Japan and pretty much every other place on the world.

Tony gasped dramatically.

“What? Please tell me you've had Sushi, Capsicle!”

Bucky's narrowed his eyes at the nickname, ”What did you call him?”

“Come on, let me show you the wonders of raw fish!” Stark ignored Bucky and filled Steve's plate with at least fifteen different types of sushi.

After everyone had food and a place on the couch, JARVIS dimmed the lights.

“So, Star Wars?” Stark asked and Steve turned into himself.

“I don't know what that is either,” he murmured under his breath, visibly overwhelmed with the situation.

Stark had picked it up and turned to look at Bucky with a judging look on his face.

“Seriously, Barnes? What have you been showing him of this century if it wasn't sushi and Star Wars?”

Bucky just shrugged. “I've always been more of a Star Trek guy anyways.”

“Alright, that's it, we're so doing a Star Wars marathon right now. JARVIS, _'A new hope'_ please.”

The lights turned off all the way and the huge screen lit up.

They had been living in Stark Tower, now renamed to the 'Avengers Tower', for two months now, Steve had been out of the ice for three and he had yet to talk to Bucky. No, that wasn't right, he was talking to Bucky, just not about what happened. He didn't talk about the past, about the war or the ice. Whenever Bucky tried to lead the conversation in that direction, he changed the topic abruptly or disappeared to work out. That was his daily routine now, going on a run at the asscrack of dawn, beating up punching bags in one of the Tower's own gyms, movie nights with the team and evading Bucky.

Natasha had said not to push him and Bucky wanted to give him all the time he needed, he really did, but he was slowly running out of patience. Bucky remembered how he had been when he came home from the war, it was fucking hard and terrifying and sometimes he still got nightmares. But Steve acted as if it was all fine and he hadn't just spent seventy years frozen in the arctic.

“Maybe he just really is okay, James,” Clint had said when Bucky had complained to him about Steve brushing him off again. Bucky had rolled his eyes. They maybe couldn't see it but Bucky had known Steve since he had been six years old. He knew Steve was going to break eventually, even if he didn't know it himself. Bucky just wanted to be there for him when it happened.

He was grocery shopping when he got the idea. He was grabbing the cookies Natasha loved to eat when he caught the tubes of paint in the 'For Sale' shelf. Quickly he got out his wallet and counted the bills he had left. He ended up buying a set of the acrylic paints, a big and a small sketchbook and some nice pencils.

“Jarvis? Where is Steve right now?” he asked when he stepped into the elevator.

“Captain Rogers is currently in the gym on the eighth floor. Should I take you there, Agent Barnes?”

“Yes, thank you, Jarvis.”

“It's my pleasure, Sir.”

As soon as the elevator doors opened, Bucky could already hear the consistent pounding of fists hitting a sandbag. Bucky gripped the back with the art utensils harder and pushed open the big doors to the gym. He wasn't here that much since the gym on the sixteenth floor had a sparring ring and he liked to practice getting his ass kicked by Natasha.

There was no indication that Steve had noticed Bucky but he knew Steve's super-hearing had picked up his footsteps.

“Wow, wow, shit, Steve,” Bucky hurried over as he spotted the blood dripping from Steve's knuckles as he kept boxing. The plastic bag dropped to the floor beside Bucky as he touched his shoulder with his right hand. Steve jerked around and Bucky was just barely able to stop the fist coming his way with his metal arm.

“Wow, Steve! Calm down, it's me!”

Steve panted and then jerked back his fist as if he had been burned.

“Shit, I'm sorry- I didn't hear you coming in,” he swiped the sweat off his forehead.

Bucky examined him skeptically. “I thought you were supposed to have super-hearing.”

Steve shrugged. ”I was thinking, I guess.”

Bucky let it got and grabbed Steve's hand.

“So, you're boxing without bandages? That doesn't seem healthy,” he said and wiped off some of the blood with his sleeve.

“It'll be healed in half an hour, just let it go,” he said but didn't withdrew his hand from Bucky's.

Bucky sighed. Steve was the most stubborn person he knew so he stopped worrying about his hands and picked up the discarded bag on the floor.

“Here, got you a present.”

Steve took the bag with a skeptical glance and opened it. A soft gasp escaped his lips and he carefully reached for one of the sketchbooks.

“Buck- You really shouldn't have,” he let his fingers wander over the hard leather and felt the paper.

“It's nothing fancy,” Bucky nudged Steve's shoulder with his, ”I thought it might cheer you up.”

“I haven't drawn something in so long,” Steve chuckled, ”In seventy years to be exact. I don't know if I still know how.”

“Sure you do. You're a natural.”

Steve locked eyes with Bucky and smiled sincerely.

“Thank you. Really, thank you.”

Now, instead of working out for hours, Steve sketched. Wherever Bucky would find him, it was nearly always with the small sketchbook in his lap, and Bucky realized even more how much he had missed his friend.

Natasha of course noticed, because she noticed everything. More often than not she caught Bucky just staring at Steve who was so lost in his work and she always shot him this knowing look but Bucky didn't let himself think too deeply about what she meant. It was just, Steve sitting there, hunched over the page, pencil in his hand and tongue between his teeth, reminded him so much of _before._ Before the war and the serum and the ice. When Bucky looked at Steve then, he didn't see the super-soldier out of time, he saw a small, fragile Steve Rogers who didn't know when to walk away from a fight.

“What are you drawing?” Bucky asked one day as he caught Steve sitting on the balcony in his living quarters.

“The skyline. Trying to get used to it.” Steve answered not looking up.

Bucky peered at the unfinished sketch.

“It's not that different.”

“Not from afar,” Steve retorted.

Bucky sat down on a chair next to Steve and looked out at the city.

“I know the future is very different, believe me, I don't get it sometimes myself. But there are good things. So many good things. I mean, look at all the diseases that can be treated now-”

“I really don't want to talk about it, Buck. Please,” Steve interrupted him quietly, hand hovering over the page, shaking slightly.

“Steve.” Bucky closed his hand around Steve's shaking wrists but Steve stood up abruptly.

“I think I'm gonna work out for a bit.”

And gone he was again.

Bucky let out a huff of frustration. How could he get Steve to open up, even just a bit?

Turns out, Natasha was right, like she usually was, and Steve did open up without Bucky intervening at all. Bucky was hanging out with Clint, playing some game that shouldn't be out yet, but because Tony Stark was Tony Stark he already had it, of course, when JARVIS' voice rang out.

“Agent Barnes, I believe Captain Rogers requires your assistance.”

Bucky was already up, letting the controller fall on the couch.

“Is he alright?”

“Should I come?” Clint asked worried.

“I think just Agent Barnes would be best, Sir.”

Bucky was racing along the hallway to the elevator.

“Talk to me Jarvis, what's going on?”

“Captain Rogers' breathing and heartbeat are accelerated and he is sweating and shaking severely. I believe he is suffering from a panic attack.”

“Fuck,” Bucky rushed out of the elevator as soon as the door opened and burst through Steve's door in seconds.

Steve was cowering on the floor, arms pressed around his middle and head between his knees. He was panting heavily and his shirt was clinging to his back.

Bucky dropped to his knees next to him.

“Steve? It's me, Bucky. Can I touch you?” he asked but Steve didn't seem to hear him.

Slowly he reached out and when Steve didn't punch him in the face at the contact, he engulfed him in a hug and pressed Steve's head against his chest. Softly he stroked through Steve's sweat-drenched hair.

“It's alright, you're safe. I got you, I'm here. Come on, I'm here, Steve,” he rambled on as he tried to bring his friend back to reality.

His eyes wandered through the room and landed on a small canvas propped up on the floor before them. Bucky's hand halted for a second. It was a painting of him, still raw and unfinished but clearly him. He was wearing his uniform from the war and smiled brightly. He was young, no metal arm, no beard or wrinkles. Bucky closed his eyes and felt as if he got punched in the gut.

Steve in his arms didn't calm down, just started to breathe more erratically and shaking violently.

“Jarvis? What do I do?” Bucky asked and he couldn't stop the panic creeping into his voice.

“Captain Rogers needs to breathe properly. Should I inform Doctor Banner?”

Bucky shook his head. Steve would hate it if more people saw him like this.

Carefully he pushed Steve back for a bit and cradled Steve's head in his hands. Steve's cheeks were red and wet with tears. His eyes found Bucky's and Bucky felt relief at the recognition washing over Steve's face.

“Hey there, buddy. I need you to breathe for me, okay? Can you do that?”

Bucky took one of Steve's hand and pressed it against his own chest. He took a deep slow breath.

“Like that. Nice and slow. Can you do that for me?”

Steve tried to breathe in but let out a shaky sob as he couldn't manage to get a full lung of air.

“I can't, Buck, I can't,” he whimpered.

“Yes, you can, come on. Just like when we were kids and you ran up the stairs to fast again. Nice and slow,” Bucky wiped a tear out of the corner of Steve's eye with his thumb and gave him a reassuring smile.

Trying to concentrate, Steve breathed in slowly through his nose.

“Just like that. And out through your mouth, you're doing great.”

Slowly, breath for breath, Steve calmed down. The shaking and crying stopped and after a couple minutes Steve was able to take steady breaths again.

Exhausted he let himself fall forward and rested his head against Bucky's chest. Bucky pressed a light kiss on the top of his head.

“You good again?”

“Yeah,” Steve answered quietly, ”Sorry. I didn't want you to see that.”

“Don't apologize. Like I said, I'm here, whatever you need.”

Steve didn't respond and Bucky just enjoyed their closeness for a little while longer. Steve felt so small again in his arms.

“So, do you have any idea what might have brought this on?”

Steve pulled back and Bucky thought he had scared him off again, but Steve only wiped his eyes and nose with his sleeve and reached behind him. He pulled the painting of Bucky in his lab and drove his fingers absently over the brushstrokes.

“Just a stupid painting,” he began to explain, ”I was painting this picture I had of you the day before you flew out. And I mean, this, _this_ is how I remember you and then I look at you and-”

“I look that old, huh,” Bucky chuckled.

Steve looked up at him.

“No, no you don't. You look good, Buck. Really good. It's just,” he stared down at the young Bucky again, ”I missed so much. God, I missed e _verything_. It's terrifying. And now you're here and you're this new person. I mean, you're still Bucky but you look different and talk different and I swear I saw you just a couple months ago and you were 28.”

Bucky was quiet for a moment. He carefully reached for the painting and took it out of Steve's lap, then he took Steve's hands in his.

“You know, I still see you as the scrawny kid I met when I was six years old,” Steve looked up at that but Bucky kept his eyes trained on their intertwined fingers, ”Even when you take out an entire army all by yourself, I still feel like I need to step in and get them off your back because you bit off more than you could chew, again. You took the serum and it changed you, but you're still you. At least to me. I've never seen you as Captain America or a super-soldier or whatever everyone says you are. You're Steve to me. Small, compassionate, kind, creative and kind of an idiot. And yes, I changed, a lot, but I'm still me, still Bucky. I'm still just as handsome and clever and intelligent-”

Steve snorted and gave him light shove. Bucky laughed but caught Steve's eyes.

“You get what I'm saying?”

Steve nodded. “Yeah, Buck. Thank you.”

Bucky pulled him in a tight embrace again and buried his face in Steve's shoulder.

“I still liked you better without a beard, though,” Steve mumbled into his chest and Bucky laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Comments and Kudos are appreciated, as always.


	5. But when you're looking in the mirror do you see that kid that you used to be?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're almost through. But it has to get a little worse before it gets better, I'm sorry.  
> Chapter title from the song "60 & Punk" by Death Cab For Cutie. I thought the name just kinda screamed Steve Rogers.  
> Thank you for all the comments and kudos under the last chapter!  
> And now, enjoy!

Bucky had been alive for ninety-five years. He had experienced a lot of shit, really fucked up, traumatizing shit that didn't let you sleep at times. Or when it did, he had nightmares.

Right now, he was held in a cell somewhere, the bones in his legs torn and broken and blood was dripping into his eyes from a head wound. But actually he was in his bed in the Avengers Tower but sometimes Bucky couldn't remember that.

He was tossing and screaming, trying to free himself from the shackles, the men, HYDRA, burst through the door and Bucky was up, panting and gripping the bed sheets so hard, he had torn a hole into the fabric.

“Bucky, are you okay?”

Suddenly Steve was next to him and looked at him worried.

Bucky swallowed and nodded. Carefully Steve pulled him into a hug and Bucky gladly let himself melt into the touch. Steve made quiet, calming sounds and massaged small circles into Bucky's back.

“I'm fine, I'm okay. Just a nightmare, s'fine,” Bucky mumbled.

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

Bucky hesitated. Then he laid back down and pulled Steve with him. They huddled under the blanket next to each other, Steve's hand now resting on Bucky's chest.

“In 1984 I got captured by HYDRA. They didn't have me for long. Barely a day before SHIELD got me out. But they chained me to a wall and tortured and killed the other agents who were with me right in front of me. Then they started to torture me.” Bucky told him, his voice hollow and his eyes staring into the darkness, unfocused.

Steve was quiet and then asked, ”Do you get a lot of nightmares?”

“Yeah,” Bucky answered quietly, ”But it has gotten better over the years. I think I learned to handle this stuff better.”

“Do you get nightmares about the war?”

Bucky thought about it for a moment.

“Not anymore, really.” _Just about the moment I lost you_ , he added in his head. “Do you?”

Steve shook his head against Bucky's shoulder.

“I mean, yes, sometimes. But it's mostly the ice now. I'm cold and I can't move and I just hear people moving around but nobody seems to notice me.”

A shudder tore through Bucky's body and he grabbed Steve's hand.

“You don't remember the ice, do you?” he asked, afraid of the answer. He knew that Steve's memory had also been enhanced by the serum but they had said he had been _asleep_.

“No, not really,” Steve answered quickly, sensing Bucky's horror.

”I remember crashing the plane and then being alone. I tried to reach out but the connection was lost and then- then there was the water and it was so cold,” Steve began shaking but Bucky's hand running through his hair calmed him down, ”I remember drowning. And freezing. And then I remember waking up in SHIELD and everyone was lying to to me because I _knew_ it couldn't still be 1945. That's why I don't sleep so much. I'm afraid of waking up and being somewhere else, in a different time again.”

Bucky pondered.

“What if you sleep here? I'll look out for your nightmares and you will look out for mine. And I will make sure you don't sleep for seventy years again,” he suggested.

Steve chuckled. “Trying to get me into your bed, huh, Barnes?”

Bucky grinned, ”Well, who doesn't want a pretty blonde sleeping next to them?”

Steve sighed and pressed himself a little tighter into Bucky's side, just slightly but Bucky noticed.

“Why not. It's not like we haven't done it before,” he mumbled. Bucky smiled and closed his eyes, no longer afraid of falling asleep again.

Their first, real mission as the Avengers took it's time to arrive. It had been four months since Loki's attack and almost five since Steve got thawed. Some weird scientist had developed murder-robots and set them loose in Brooklyn. The Avengers got called out to handle the robots while SHIELD evacuated civilians.

“We've been practicing for this, guys. We can do it. We know our strengths and our weaknesses. I know every one of you will do their best and together we can beat these things,” Steve said and looked proudly at everyone. They were standing in a Quinjet on their way to the attack.

Bucky smiled at seeing Steve suited up and shield on his back. He immediately was thrown back to the war when Steve would lead the commandos. Before every mission he had held a small pep-talk like this as well.

“We got this, Cap. Honestly, the programming on these things is so simple, I'm getting second-hand embarrassment,” Tony said looking at the robots on a screen.

“You need the other guy?” Bruce asked and Steve shook his head.

“No, not yet. We will try to do it without him but be ready if something goes south.”

He turned and opened a map of the attacked city on the big screen.

“Alright, Bucky, Hawkeye, you will be positioned right here,” he pointed at two skyscrapers, ”You will be our eyes and snipers. Thor and Iron Man will be air support as well, cover the west and east part. Black Widow and I will fight on the ground, north and south. Everybody understood?”

There were a few affirmative nods and then the Quinjet landed and the door in the back opened with a hiss.

“Let's go, Avengers.”

From Bucky's spot on the roof he could oversee almost the entire battle. Steve and Natasha were fighting in the midst of the robots, keeping them as far away as possible from the office building where civilians were being led out by groups of SHIELD agents. Iron Man was soaring through the air, forcing the machines to not spread out further into the city. Bucky didn't have eyes on Thor at the moment but he guessed he was doing the same thing.

He could also make out Clint a couple roofs away. Bucky was a good sniper, one of the best but even he was amazed by the way Clint pierced the robots one by one from that distance.

“Bucky, strays leading to the civilians at nine o'clock,” Steve's voice sounded through the comms and Bucky focused back on the battle.

Quickly he spotted the three robots who broke free from the main battle and ran towards the office building. He squinted his eyes in concentration and shot them down with three shots through their heads.

“Any way I could get one of these things alive?” Tony asked through the comms.

“I thought they were terrible?” Steve sounded breathless and Bucky needed some time to find him in a swarm of metal.

“They are. So bad that they will be a good ego boost.”

“I don't really think your ego needs a boost,” Steve objected.

Worry came up in Bucky as he saw another dozen robots appear behind Steve and he quickly rattled them with bullets.

“Bucky, focus on the strays, I'm doing fine,” Steve ordered tightly.

Bucky rolled his eyes but did as he was commanded. Not without checking for Steve every couple seconds. He couldn't help being scared to lose Steve again. He knew Steve was more than capable of protecting himself but Bucky just couldn't stop worrying. He never had, even before the ice. Steve was his and he had to protect him, no matter what. He failed during the war when Steve was all alone on that plane and Bucky would be damned if he let Steve die right in front of him again.

“A new horde is coming your way, Captain,” Thor announced and just in that moment a flood of robots emerged from an alley onto the big street where Steve was fighting.

“I need some back up, here,” Natasha said. Bucky could see her getting overwhelmed with another horde.

“On my way, Widow,” Tony answered and a blur of red and gold flashed across Bucky's vision.

Bucky focused on Steve again and tried his best to keep the robots away from him. He saw the shield fly through the bodies, defying the laws of physics.

“Bucky, focus on the strays,” Steve grunted, a slight tone of annoyance creeping into his voice.

Bucky ignored him and started fire on another wave emerging from the alley.

“Someone check out that alley, I think that's where they're coming from,” Steve panted while trying to fight of at least four robots at once.

“On it, Captain,” Thor complied.

“Bucky, look for the fucking strays,” Steve snapped and sounded legitimately pissed now.

“Fine,” Bucky growled and redirected his shot. There really were a lot more robots endangering the civilians now.

“Uh, protective boyfriend,” Tony cooed and Bucky pressed his lips together to bite off a snarky answer.

“I found the source. They are coming out of the sewers. I'm going in to see if I can stop them but expect more to pop up,” Thor reported and Steve swore under his breath.

“Alright, Bucky, Hawkeye, try to find out if they are popping up somewhere else as well. Black Widow, how is the situation?”

“I've got it covered now,” Nat replied.

“Iron Man, take over for her while Widow helps SHIELD escorting the civilians. I will be with you in a moment. We need to wrap this up fast.”

“Should I come in?” Bruce asked.

Steve hesitated.

“No, not yet. But stay ready.”

Bucky knew how much Bruce hated hulking out and he knew that Steve knew it, too.

Bucky covered Natasha as she fought her way through the robots to the other SHIELD agents but he couldn't help and keep glancing at Steve who was getting more and more swarmed.

“You need some back-up, Steve?” he asked.

“No, Buck. I've got it,” Steve sounded even more out of breath and another couple dozen robots rushed out of the shadows.

Bucky kept looking out for strays while also trying to prevent the attackers to get too close to Steve. The shield kept flashing up, incapacitating robots but Bucky could barely see Steve in midst oft the fight. Steve had said he was okay and Bucky knew he should trust his friend, his _leader_ , but he couldn't push down the panic welling up inside him. He couldn't loose Steve again, not when he could stop it.

With a mumbled curse he abruptly backed away from the railing and swung the gun over his shoulder. He had to get down there and help Steve and he couldn't do it from the roof. With quick steps he rushed down the stairs when suddenly a cry soared through the comms. The blood in his veins went cold and he picked up the pace. He could already see the entry to the building when he realized it hadn't been Steve's voice.

“Hawkeye? What's going on?” Steve asked.

“They came up the roof, heard them too late,” Clint gasped, pain straining his voice.

“How many?”

“Too many, need back-up,” Clint let out another groan of pain.

“Fuck, Iron Man?”

“Little busy here myself, Cap. Give me a couple minutes,” Tony replied and Steve cursed lowly.

“Wait, Bucky, you can see him from there right? Can you keep them away from him? I'm on my way,” Steve said and Bucky swore his heart set out a couple beats.

Then he spun around and started storming back up. What had he done? Abandoning his post like that? Stupid, stupid, stupid-

“Bucky, do you copy?” Steve asked frantically.

“Yes, yes, I copy. It's just-”

“What? Are they on your roof as well?”

“I'm not on the roof,” Bucky replied, heat crawling up his neck.

There was a moment of silence.

“What?” Steve's voice was ice-cold and Bucky wanted to bury himself in shame. Instead he forced himself to speed up, taking three stairs in one.

“I'm on my way back up, I'll be there in a minute.”

“Don't really have a minute here, guys,” Clint retorted.

“Alright, I'm on my way, I'll just drop a bomb on them, what's a little more collateral damage?” Tony said and after a couple seconds Bucky could hear the loud rumble of an explosion on the street.

Bucky burst through the door on the roof and immediately set up his gun. But he didn't really have anything to shoot at anymore. Iron Man was already blasting the remaining robots to pieces and then lifted up an unconscious looking Clint.

“He is out and bleeding a lot, I'm flying him to medical,” Tony said and flew off.

“Good. Bucky, help me with the couple on the streets. From your position this time, please,” Steve said and Bucky winced at the harsh tone. Quickly he changed positions and focused on the last robots surrounding Steve.

“I have found the source. It's an old warehouse about two miles north. The robots are being released into the sewers in waves every couple minutes. There are too many for me here but I think with the Hulk we can finish them off quickly,” Thor's voice boomed over the comms.

“Alright, Bruce. Get out there,” Steve commanded.

Not a minute later Bucky could hear the roar of the Hulk and saw him storming off north to help Thor.

Bucky felt the terrible need to apologize but got cut off by Steve.

“I'm sorry-,”

“We'll talk about this later. Let's just finish this.”

A couple hours later they all sat in a waiting room in SHIELD's medical bay. They were all still in armor, Tony with his helmet balancing on his lap. Bruce was curled up in a seat next to him, covered in a blanket and sleeping deeply. Hulking out always cost him all his energy. Thor and Steve were leaning against a wall, staring grimly at the floor. Bucky watched Natasha who paced nervously around the room. She rarely let other people see her nervousness but Bucky had learned early on that she could really lose her composure if Clint was involved. She also trusted the team and, even if she didn't admit it, had let herself open up around them.

Bucky himself sat in an uncomfortable plastic chair and didn't dare to make a sound. Guilt gnawed at him. He knew Clint was in there because of him, hadn't he abandoned his post, he could have helped him and Clint would have been fine.

He was angry at himself. He had been an agent for almost seventy years and had never let his emotions get in the middle of a job. He knew better than that. But Steve was just an exception, always had been. When Steve was in danger, nothing else mattered anymore. He knew Steve was probably more capable than him to defend himself but there was that part in Bucky that was just programmed to protect Steve at all costs. He grew up protecting and worrying about Steve, defending him from bullies at school or holding him through an asthma attack. It had always been Bucky looking out for Steve and he could never forget that. He didn't _want_ to forget it.

And he had just gotten Steve back. Sometimes he woke up and got startled when he saw Steve next to him because it was so unbelievable and too good to be true. How was he ever supposed to not worry about Steve when he had lost him once before? He knew he wouldn't get him back a second time.

Bucky knew Steve was angry with him, too. He hadn't said anything but everyone could sense the tension between them. Bucky knew he would get a strong lecture later and probably even sleep alone in his bed tonight.

A nurse entered the small waiting room and everyone immediately jumped to attention. Tony nudged Bruce awake. She looked slightly intimidated at the disheveled superheroes.

“Agent Barton is out of surgery now. He had multiple broken bones in his leg and some serious internal bleeding. Luckily no organs were damaged. He also suffered some trauma to the head and has a concussion,” she smiled kindly, ”But he is stable and will make a full recovery. You can see him if you want but he will probably take some couple more hours to wake up.”

Instantly everybody stormed out of the waiting room and into the post-surgery room that was way too small for six people.

Clint was laying in the hospital bed, tubes connecting his arm to an IV and a monitor that beeped steadily. His head was covered in soft bandages and his right leg was in a cast. It rested on top of the white bed sheets that were pulled up to his abdomen. He was dressed in a hospital gown that made the cuts and bruises on his face and arms stand out even more against the white.

Natasha let herself fall down onto the chair next to the bed and slowly took Clint's hand in hers. Everybody else gathered around the bed, Bruce collapsed onto the other chair and promptly fell asleep again, his head laying on the mattress. Thor and Tony lowered themselves onto the ground and Tony pulled out a Stark tablet and started typing.

Bucky let his eyes roam over Clint again. The steady beat of his heart had calmed him down a bit but the guilt and worry still made his stomach coil.

He felt a hand on his elbow and turned to Steve looking at him.

“Can we talk for a minute?” he asked and nodded towards the hallway.

Bucky swallowed and followed Steve.

“Good luck,” Tony called out and Bucky gave him the finger over his shoulder.

After Bucky had closed the door behind them, Steve crossed his arms in front of his chest and hit Bucky with his best Captain America-stare. Bucky felt like he was eight years old again, getting schooled by his mother. He lowered his gaze.

“Why did you leave your post?” Steve asked, his voice calm and somehow that made it worse.

“It looked like you needed help,” Bucky answered honestly.

“But I told you I got it covered.”

“I know, but I didn't see you anymore and-”

“But I _told_ you I could do it. I _told_ you to stay put and I _told_ you that I was fine by myself.”

Bucky kept silent.

“You don't trust me, Buck? Is that it?”

That made Bucky raise his head in shock. “What? No, Steve-”

“Do you think I can't defend myself? You think I'm not able to lead this team?” Steve's voice got louder with every word and Bucky could see his shoulders slightly shaking in anger.

“No, Steve that's not it-”

“Then what is it?”

Bucky buried his face in his hands and groaned.

“What is it Buck, that you can't follow even one simple command I give you? Why you can't trust me when I-”

“Because I can't lose you again!” Bucky interrupted, almost yelling now.

Steve's words died in his throat, taken aback by Bucky's outburst.

Bucky used Steve's speechlessness and took a step forward.

“I can't lose you again. I lost you seventy years ago and by some miracle I got you back. I can't lose you again, I just _can't_.”

“You're not going to lose me, Bucky. I was fine, you have to trust me. As a leader.”

“I know, I know,” Bucky leaned his head back, ”Believe me, I do. But I didn't see you and suddenly you were this small kid in Brooklyn again and I needed to protect you.”

“But I can protect myself! Look at me! I'm not in a hospital bed right now, I am fine!”

Bucky slowly grew frustrated. He didn't want to have this talk with Steve, he didn't want to fight. He knew he was being overprotective, he knew he didn't act logical but he didn't care. It was Steve, Bucky wanted to be overprotective and fucking irrational because it was _Steve_.

“I know you can protect yourself but look, seventy years ago, you died-”

“Except I didn't.”

“You died and I wasn't there. I never forgave myself because of that. And now you are back, because for some reason God or whoever gave me a second chance and I won't fuck it up.”

Steve let himself fall back against the white hospital wall.

“I didn't die back then and I won't die now. And even if, _if,_ that's not on you or anyone else. That's what happens when you live this life. You know that. So I just need you to trust me as your leader,” Steve explained calmly, ”You did back in the war. Back then you followed my orders and didn't pull this overprotective bullshit.”

Bucky couldn't help but feel hurt at that. He had protected Steve all his life and took pride in that.

“So worrying over you is bullshit, now?” he bit back and Steve rolled his eyes.

“You know that's not what I meant-”

“No, you know what? Fuck you. Fuck. You,” Bucky was yelling now, glaring at Steve with heat in his eyes, ”I've worried about you all my life and now suddenly it's _bullshit_?!”

“It is when it gets other people hurt and you don't follow my orders!” Steve countered, just as agitated.

“God, I'm so over your 'Follow my orders'-shit.”

“You weren't in the forties if I remember correctly, you were just fine with it then!”

“That's different!”

“Why? Because this 2012?!”

“Fuck, Steve, just a week ago you were sobbing over missing Peggy in your sleep, sorry if I'm a little concerned for my best friend who just woke up in a century he doesn't fucking belong in!”

Steve's shut his mouth soundly and his eyes hardened. Bucky winced. Bad wording.

“Steve, no, you know that's not what I meant.”

Steve raised a hand and Bucky went quiet. Steve swallowed and took a step back.

“S'fine. I got it,” he turned and started walking down the hall, ”I'm gonna go report to SHIELD.”

Bucky went to follow him but stopped himself. It was probably best to let Steve cool off for a moment. He himself needed a moment to see through the huge, angry ball of guilt and regret and fear that had formed in the the pit of his stomach and had made him say these awful things.

Bucky sighed and drove a hand through his hair. He knew ha had fucked up. Big time. He had thrown a massive bucket of salt into an already existing wound of Steve's and now he had to somehow find a way to fix this mess.

He took a deep breath and returned back into Clint's room. An awkward silence welcomed him and he looked up to see everyone, minus Clint and Bruce, staring at him. They definitely had heard their fight.

“Low blow, Barnes,” Natasha said but shot him a small, sympathetic smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> Comments and Kudos are appreciated :)


	6. Though your feathers are tattered and curved, I'll love you all your days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, the final chapter!  
> It's going to get a lot angstier and also kinda cheesy. But I think we all deserve that after all the drama.  
> Also a tiny trigger warning: There is a very brief mention of suicidal thoughts, but it is really, really brief and not seriously considered. Still, be careful.  
> Thank you so much to everyone who has followed this story. This has been the first thing I've written after a very long break and I'm excited to be back. Especially thank you to everyone who has left comments, you truly made my days.  
> Chapter title is from the song "Talking Bird" by Death Cab For Cutie.  
> And now, enjoy the ending!

Clint was released from the hospital after two days with three months on medical leave and a wheelchair. He was complaining and bickering all the way back to the Tower and everybody let him talk in their relief that their archer was okay.

Bucky had apologized about a million times until Clint just waved him off.

“I know why you did it, James. It's okay,” he had said, uncharacteristically serious.

Apologizing to Steve wasn't so easy though. Whenever Bucky had tried, Steve had evaded him. He was seriously hurt and it made Bucky feel so horrible that even Natasha got tired of his moping.

“God, Barnes. If you don't fix this soon, I will lock you both in a room and you will either kill each other or make out, it's your call,” she had threatened and Bucky believed every word.

So there he was, a set of new brushes under his arm, standing in front of Steve's door, contemplating with himself if he should really knock. The decision got taken out of his hands as the door opened and Steve stood in front of him. He was clearly as surprised as Bucky and stared at him with wide eyes.

Bucky swallowed and then presented the brushes with a lopsided grin.

“A peace offering?” he asked and Steve slowly took the brushes.

“Thanks,” he mumbled and then let out a defeated sigh, ”Come in.”

Bucky stepped inside and felt horribly out of place in the big living room. The walls were covered in paintings and sketches, some unfinished. Bucky recognized himself in many of them. Steve was wearing a paint-stained shirt and loose sweat pants. He sat the brushes down on the big table in front of the window and then turned to look at Bucky expectantly.

Bucky took a deep breath. “I'm sorry. About leaving my position, not trusting you and for what I said at the hospital. You are a capable leader and I know that, believe me. I just let my feelings get the upper hand. It will not happen again,” he said, proud of how steady his voice sounded.

Steve nodded sharply and opened his mouth but Bucky quickly moved on, “And I didn't mean what I said. You belong in this century.”

Steve was quiet for a moment and then shrugged. “It's okay. Maybe you were right. Most of the time I feel like I don't belong here either,” he admitted.

“I know you do. But it's not true. You belong here just as much as everybody else. I mean, you understand Instagram, even I don't get it.”

Steve chuckled at that. “It's really not that complicated, Buck.”

Bucky smiled and pulled Steve into a quick hug.

“I really am sorry.”

“It's okay. I forgive you,” Steve said and Bucky released Steve.

“Alright, but I have one more thing to show you.”

“Okay, seriously, where are we going?” Steve asked for the hundredth time and Bucky rolled his eyes.

“Jeez, can't you enjoy a surprise for once? We are almost there.”

Bucky looked out of the window onto the streets of Brooklyn. He wondered if Steve recognized these streets with their new shops and cafes. It was hard to see the neighborhood they had grown up in but Bucky could do it. He saw himself and Steve running down the sidewalk, fleeing from the butcher's son who was at least three years older than them. He saw them sitting on Mrs Williams door steps, Steve sketching while Bucky told him all about the new job his father just got.

The car stopped in front of an apartment building. A fitness studio was in the first floor now but the apartments above were still intact.

Bucky exited the car and Steve stepped next to him, staring up the building. His brows furrowed in wonder. “Wait, is that-”

“Yep,” Bucky said and pulled a set of keys out of his pocket, ”I kept it all those years. Rent is expensive as fuck in New York but I made SHIELD buy it for me. In return I became their best agent ever.”

Steve rolled his eyes and stepped up the stairway behind Bucky. “Have you met Natasha?” he mocked.

Bucky lead them towards the door at the end of the hallway and then hesitated.

“Why didn't you move in?” Steve asked.

“Couldn't. Too many memories,” Bucky admitted quietly. He unlocked the door and stepped into the small room. “I wanted to wait until I showed you because I wasn't sure how you would handle it. It is pretty run-down and there had been pipe burst so it's not in the best shape.”

Steve ignored him and let his eyes wander over the familiar space. The paint was slowly coming off the walls and dust covered the kitchen counters and table. It was obvious that Bucky hadn't been in here for years. The doors to their bathroom and bedroom were locked as well and Bucky quickly opened them up.

Their beds were still there standing on opposite walls but the room was so small that you could barely fit between them.

Steve let himself fall down on the left bed. Bucky sat down next to him.

“God, this is weird,” Steve whispered and let out a broken laugh.

Bucky wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

“It sure is. Man, we are _old_.”

Steve nudged his elbow in Bucky's side, ”You maybe. I'm 28.”

Bucky just snorted.

“I remember how you always stumbled in here after being out with some girl until midnight,” Steve reminisced with a soft smile on his lips.

Bucky gasped in shock and set Steve into a fit of giggles. “It's true! The minute you weren't living at your mother's anymore you had all these girls! I couldn't keep up.”

Bucky made another appalled sound and shook his head in disbelief.

“Wow, I can't deal with these lies,” he said but couldn't help and grin.

Steve broke out in full laughter now and let himself fall on his back.

“It was even worse when you brought them home and I had to sleep on the bench in the kitchen. It was so cold.”

Bucky rested his head next to Steve's.

“It seems really stupid now, doesn't it. Dating or whatever the hell I was doing back then,” he said and Steve's laughter quieted down. Bucky felt him shrug.

“We were young. You cared about girls, nothing wrong with that.”

Bucky let the comfortable silence between them linger for a moment. Then he turned his head to look at Steve's profile.

“You know I never really cared about them. The girls. All I ever really cared about was you,” he admitted quietly.

Steve's breath stocked and he turned his head as well. Their faces were now only centimeters apart and a tension had built between them but different than the one after their fight. It made Bucky's hands sweat and his heart flutter in his chest. His eyes flickered to Steve lips and he could swear Steve leaned a little closer.

Bucky's head went completely empty when Steve's nose touched his and he was suddenly very aware of every little touch, Steve's breath on his skin, his thigh pressing against his and their fingers almost entangling.

Steve locked eyes with him, open and earnest. Carefully Bucky covered Steve's cheek with his hand and let his eyes flutter shut.

He pulled Steve a little bit closer, lips almost touching as suddenly a loud ringing made them flinch back. They stared at each other, then jumped up and Steve pressed himself against the nearest wall. Bucky's heart was racing. The ringing noise sounded again and Bucky identified it as Steve's phone that was sitting on the kitchen counter.

Steve must have realized it as well because within a second he had vanished through the door and Bucky could make out his voice answering the call from the living room.

He groaned quietly in buried his head in his hands. Had he seriously almost kissed Steve? Steve, his best friend, the one person he cared for the most in his entire life? Steve who had been in another century and also World War Two just five months ago? Suddenly Bucky felt like the biggest asshole. What was he thinking, pushing himself on Steve like that? The poor guy was probably confused as hell already, without Bucky's weird feelings towards him.

He couldn't deny how right it had felt, though. And how Steve had leaned into his touch. Bucky had shoved these feelings away for so long but if he was honest with himself, he had always known they were there. And ever since Steve came back, there had been something new, something different between them. Something that Bucky couldn't identify, at least he had thought so. Was this the answer? Love? Real romantic love?

He pushed these thoughts out of his mind when Steve stuck his head through the door.

“We have a mission, let's go,” he said.

Sitting in the car on their drive back to the Tower, Steve grabbed Bucky's hand and pressed it once, Bucky looked at him and Steve send him a comforting smile. Bucky couldn't figure out what it was supposed to convey so he just smiled back slightly and turned to look back out of the window. Steve's hand didn't let go of his until they stopped.

The mission was full of shit and this time it wasn't Bucky's fault. Some weird squid-like alien had decided to visit earth and eat a couple dozen New Yorkers on its trip. It was big like a house and normal bullets just disappeared in the green, slimy body. The tentacles crashed into buildings and tried to snatch Iron Man out of the air who continuously dropped grenades onto it.

Clint was still on bed rest and Thor had been called to Asgard yesterday, so they were only five against one huge blob of alien. The Hulk grabbed cars and hauled them at the alien who just seemed mildly annoyed and lashed out towards the green monster.

“I think the area around his eyes is sensitive to pain. Focus on that,” Bucky called out from his spot on the roof. He had been equipped with a grenade launcher and was also supposed to surveil the surrounding area for other attackers.

“On his left side, right under the biggest tentacle, as well,” Tony called out, ”I think it's where his heart is. Or something like that at least. I can't access it, though.”

Bucky concentrated and tried to aim towards the slightly darker spot visible where Tony had just described but it moved too much so he just ended up hitting it's side. He cursed and then cursed even louder when he saw a group of civilians running out of the building just behind the monster.

“Steve, civilians just behind the alien. Get them out of there,” he reported.

“Got it,” Steve answered and Bucky saw him rush across the street.

He focused back on hitting the alien where it hurt when he heard Tony yell through the comms, “Fuck, Steve, watch out, the thing can move quicker than expected!”

The alien roared and resorted into a puddle-like stake, just to grow into full size again, but eyes and tentacles directed towards Steve now. Bucky cursed again but forced himself to stay calm.

Steve threw his shield against the oncoming tentacle and rushed the three civilians, a mother and two children behind a car. SHIELD agents appeared out of nowhere and lead them to the evacuation zone.

Steve turned back to the monster and sent the shield out again. It soared through the air and through a tentacle, managing to cut it from the monsters body. The alien let out an ear-piercing scream and a green substance sluggishly flew out of the wound.

“This is just gross,” Tony said in disgust.

“Can you access the heart now, Buck?” Steve asked and Bucky noticed then that it had been the tentacle right over the dark spot. Quickly he readjusted his launcher and aimed. The grenade hit right in the middle of the dark circle and more green blood covered the street as it exploded.

The alien trashed again and Bucky saw Steve leaping back. Bucky's whole body went rigid as he realized what was about to happen, Steve was too slow, the tentacle tore through his upper body as if it was paper and lifted Steve a couple feet up into the air.

Steve let out a pained cry that shook Bucky out of his state of shock.

“No!” he yelled and blindly shot another grenade. He somehow hit the tentacle holding Steve and cut it off as well. Steve fell, the tentacle still buried deep in his chest. He fell and didn't get up.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Bucky cursed and jumped into action. He flew down the stairs, jumping down the stairs in a speed that made his knees ache.

“Captain, come in! Damnit, Rogers!” Tony yelled.

“Tony keep blasting the thing. We need to get it down. James and I will handle Steve,” Natasha said, her voice steady but Bucky could hear the underlying panic.

Bucky dropped to Steve's side. There was so much blood, under him, coming out of the gaping hole in his chest and out of his mouth. The tentacle had dissolved into a greenish slime. Bucky hooked his arms under Steve's shoulders and dragged him behind a car, away from the monster.

Suddenly Natasha was at his side. She quickly got rid of the top part of her uniform, living her in a gray undershirt and pressed it against Steve's wound.

“Here, keep the pressure,” she ordered and then talked into her comm, ”SHIELD, we need a lift to the nearest hospital, right now.”

Bucky pressed down the fabric and couldn't do anything but stare at the blood welling up between his fingers. Steve let out a cough and convulsed as a mouthful of blood spilled from his lips.

“His lunges are damaged,” Natasha reported.

Bucky let out a shaking breath. “Yeah, no shit.”

A Quinjet set down next to him and SHIELD nurses came rushing towards them. Carefully they laid Steve onto the stretcher and then pushed him back inside the Quinjet.

“Come on,” Nat grabbed Bucky's arm and dragged him with her into the jet.

“A collapsed lung, damage to the aorta and and possible damage to more organs,” someone yelled.

“Get oxygen on him now,” a doctor commanded and a nurse pushed past Bucky.

Bucky couldn't do anything but stare at Steve who laid on the stretcher, coughing up blood. His eyes were wide open in pain and his hands grabbed at the fabric under him. How was he still conscious?

With shaking legs Bucky walked forward until he hovered over Steve's head.

“Buck,” Steve groaned as his eyes found Bucky's.

“I'm here, Steve, you'll be okay,” Bucky croaked and grabbed his hand.

“Agent Barnes, please step back!” A nurse pushed Bucky away and forced him to let go of Steve.

“No, no, Buck, please!” Steve gurgled around a new flood of blood. Then his eyes rolled back and he passed out.

“We're losing him! Defibrillator!”

Bucky's stopped picking up the words being spoken around him, everything turned into static as he watched the doctors trying to revive Steve. The world was turning and Bucky was suddenly horribly aware of the blood on his hands. He stared down at them and startled when delicate fingers closed around them.

He looked up to see Natasha. She led them into the small bathroom, held Bucky's hands under warm water and gently washed off the blood. A rumble shook the jet as they landed and Bucky could hear the doctors and nurses rush Steve out into the ER. A shudder went though his body and he could feel his legs give out under him but Natasha stopped him.

“Not here,” she placed a hand between his shoulder blades and led them out of the Quinjet as well.

Bucky didn't know how but he ended up in a plastic chair in a hospital waiting room.

Natasha was talking furiously to someone over the phone but Bucky couldn't focus on her words. He closed his eyes and only saw Steve in front of him. Him hanging up in the air, falling to the ground, lifeless. He could hear Steve's blood-filled coughs, his pleas for Bucky to stay, the beeping of him flat lining.

“Oh God,” Bucky groaned and was out of his seat in a second, hanging over a trash can standing in the corner. Violently he threw up whatever food had been inside him. Natasha appeared behind him and rubbed a comforting hand over his back. Exhausted he fell back and leaned against the wall after the gagging had stopped. Natasha handed him a tissue and a bottle of water.

Bucky closed his eyes and let out a broken sob.

“Nat, I- I can't- He-,” he stuttered and Natasha pulled him into a tight embrace.

“I know, James. I know. Breathe.”

Bucky cried into Natasha's shoulder and clung to her until no tears were left. He rubbed his palms over his eyes and tried to control the shaking of his limbs.

“If he dies, Natasha, I don't know if I can do it again,” he confessed.

Natasha looked at him, a serious expression on her face.

“It's bad, I'm not going to lie. But he has the serum.” She framed his face with her hands and forced him to look at her. ”Steve is strong, he will pull through. You have to believe in him. He is strong.”

Bucky took a deep breath and nodded. A phone ringing interrupted them and Natasha let him go to answer it.

“Yes- He is in surgery right now- We don't know, Tony, it's bad- Yes- Alright, see you soon.” She hung up and turned back to Bucky.

“The green thing is taken care of. After the heart was laid bare it was only a matter of minutes. SHIELD is doing clean-up and the rest of the team is on their way now. I have to talk to Fury, will you be okay for a moment?”

Bucky nodded and Natasha exited the room. Sighing Bucky repositioned himself so he sat more comfortable against the wall, not yet trusting himself to leave the trash can. Slowly he sipped his water as he stared at his feet. Green slime was sticking to the bottom of his shoes and Bucky could see specks of it all over his uniform. He shrugged of his top piece and suddenly he was back balling up Natasha's uniform, pressing it against the fucking _hole_ in Steve's chest. He turned and retched into the can again but only bile came up.

Bucky rested his head against the corner of the can and let his eyes fall shut. He thought about the moment in their old apartment just a couple hours before. He thought back to their childhood, how many times he had felt the fear he was feeling now. The fear that Steve was going to leave him, that some illness was finally going to take him and Bucky would be all alone. How many times had he sat next to Steve's bed while the other was shaking with fever? How many times had he prayed that Steve would get through this? How many times had he thought this would be it? And now here he was, he had just gotten Steve back and now he was going to lose him again. And there was nothing he could do about it. Steve was going to die and all Bucky could do was sit in some room, hugging a fucking trash can.

The door burst open and Iron Man was rushing inside. Tony removed his helmet and took one look at Bucky before stepping fully out of his armor. In a couple steps he was next to Bucky.

“How is he?” he asked.

Bucky shrugged and tried his best to wipe the snot and tears of his cheeks.

“Not good,” he croaked, ”He has a fucking hole in his chest.”

Tony nodded. “Right.”

He stayed unusually quiet for a moment before getting up again and pacing around the room.

“But he has the serum, right? He will pull through. It's Steve. He survived seventy years frozen in the arctic,” he rambled on, ”God, maybe this Avengers thing wasn't such a good idea after all. Three out of three mission someone almost got killed.”

Bucky didn't answer and pulled himself to his feet with a low groan. Tony was at his side in an instant. “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky mumbled, ”I just can't lose him again, Tony.”

“You won't. I'm sure he will make it through.”

“Yeah but if he doesn't I can't do it again.” Tony stared at him and Bucky returned the look unwavering, he didn't know where the sudden honesty towards Stark came from but he had to make it clear. ”You get it? I can't do it again and I _won't_.”

Tony swallowed hard. “Barnes-”

“No, it's Steve. Without him, I can't- Fuck, he is everything to me, do you understand that?”

Tony led Bucky to the chair again and then sat down next to him. He started fidgeting with his watch before he started talking again.

“You know, I wondered about you two. When Steve got pulled out, you were all over him and I thought it was just excitement about having your best friend back but then you didn't let off and I thought, maybe, you know.” Bucky stared at him but Tony ignored him and continued, ”And then I found out about you sleeping in a bed together and before you say anything, no, Jarvis doesn't record anything, Jesus, I'm not a pervert, but I wanted an opinion on some adjustments on the suit from Steve and I know he doesn't sleep much but when I asked Jarvis where he was and he said he was in bed with you, I though, ' _Oh'_.”

Bucky didn't know what to make of Tony's rambling so he just stayed quiet. Tony glanced at Bucky.

“Listen, I'm fully supportive of you two, okay? I know it might have been different in the forties but nowadays it's totally okay-”

“I know that,” Bucky interrupted quietly.

“Right, right, but Steve might not know it. So it's totally okay if you want to keep it private and I won't say a thing, I just want to say that I think it's really great. For both of you.”

Bucky sighed and thought back to Steve's cheek under his palm and his breath on his skin.

“We aren't. Together,” he admitted and Tony let out a surprised sound, ”I mean, I think there is something. And we kinda had a moment but he just got unfrozen and I don't want to confuse him or anything.”

“Listen, I haven't known Cap for long but everybody can see the way he looks at you as if you are made out of pure gold. The guy likes you. Believe me. And if there is one thing you take from this, it's that you shouldn't waste a single day. Especially with a job like this,” Tony said and Bucky had rarely seen him this serious.

Bucky let out a low chuckle.

“If he survives, that is,” he replied darkly and Tony's silence was answer enough.

The door opened once again and Natasha entered the room. She put her phone back into her back pocket. She looked at the two men.

“Fury is on his way with Banner. They are bringing spare clothes and food. It will probably be a while. You should sleep if you can.”

Bucky nodded tiredly. He knew he couldn't fall asleep, not until he knew if Steve was going to be alright. He was scared of drifting off and getting nightmares so he focused on drinking some more water instead.

About an hour later Bruce entered the room with a bag over his shoulder and pizza boxes in his hands. He had black circles under his eyes and obvious troubles with staying on his feet but he smiled as he saw the team.

“Here, clothes and food for everyone. There is a bathroom just down the hall if you need to clean up.” He looked at Nat. ”Maybe you should call Clint before he actually tries to come here.”

Natasha sighed, got a share of clothes out of the bag and disappeared out of the room again. Bruce took her place next to Bucky and placed a pizza box on his lap.

“Here, eat. I know your metabolism works similarly to Steve's, you need calories,” he said but Bucky just shook his head. Bruce didn't push any further.

After a while Natasha came back in fresh clothes and the blood and slime cleaned up from her body. Bucky got up and walked towards the small bathroom with a change of clothes in his hand.

He needed a moment to be alone. It had been almost two hours now since he had last seen Steve and Bucky was slowly going crazy. He knew the long wait couldn't mean anything good.

Bucky looked at himself in the mirror. His face was covered in sprinkles of blood and his hair was streaked with slime. His eyes were sunken in and he felt hollowed out, empty.

With aching bones he stripped off his uniform and stepped under the shower. He didn't allow himself a long shower, too afraid he would miss any news about Steve but managed to get the blood off his skin and his hair mostly clean. Then he pulled on the SHIELD-issued sweatpants and a T-Shirt that seemed to be Tony's, based on the tight fit.

Bucky returned back to the waiting room and to his silent state of staring at the floor.

Another hour passed excruciating slowly. They talked to Barton who insisted on coming even though he could barely make two steps. Fury dropped by for a moment before heading off to talk to the doctors, promising to return once he had news. Bruce had nodded off and Tony and Natasha were forcing themselves to eat pizza, both clearly not hungry.

After a total of four hours Fury entered the room again. The Avengers jerked up, some of them waking up from a nap. Bucky immediately stood up.

Exhaustion laid over Fury's feature and he looked at them seriously. Bucky tried to brace himself for the worst.

“He is stable,” Fury said.

“Oh, thank God,” Tony groaned.

“Thank the serum,” Fury replied flatly, ”He flat-lined three times and lost so much blood a normal human would have died. Luckily the serum kicked in fast and managed to keep him alive. He is going to need time to recover but the doctors say he is out of the woods.”

Bucky lowered his head to hide the tears welling up in relief. Natasha raised up next to him, sensing his overwhelmed feelings.

“Is he awake?” she asked.

“There aren't any narcotics who can put him under without haltering the effects of the serum. So yes, he is currently awake.” Fury never showed any sign of uneasiness or wavering, but Bucky could swear he detected some kind of horror in his voice.

Tony paled. “You mean he was awake during the surgery?”

Bucky stepped forward before Fury could answer. He knew about this 'side-effect'. He had personally been at Steve's side countless time while medics dug a bullet out of his body during the war. It wasn't pretty, horrifying actually, but Bucky knew it was a price Steve was willing to pay in return of having the serum. And if it meant Steve could take hits that normally would be fatal and survive, then Bucky thought it was the lesser evil.

Still, he had kind of hoped they had figured out a set of narcotics strong enough for a super soldier by now.

Fury nodded and let them all through a maze of hospital corridors. Bucky probably would have paid attention, hadn't his mind been occupied with the sole thought of Steve.

They stopped in front of a white door and Fury made an welcoming gesture, prompting Bucky to open the door.

Steve was laying in a hospital bed, a blanket covering his legs and abdomen. His chest was wrapped in soft bandages and, the same as it had been with Clint, a monitor beeped loudly showing Steve's heartbeat. He turned his head to look at them and smiled slightly. A tube was attached to his nose, providing him with oxygen.

“Hey guys,” he whispered tiredly.

Bucky stumbled towards him and collapsed half on the chair, half on the bed. He grabbed Steve's hand and pressed his to his chest. Steve chuckled lightly but looked at him with a fond expression.

“Fuck, don't ever, _ever_ , do that again, punk,” Bucky breathed.

The rest of the team gathered around the bed as well.

“What he said, Capsicle. Getting pierced by an alien tentacle might sound cool in theory but don't do it again, got it?” Tony said and Steve rolled his eyes.

“Not like I planned to do it or anything,” he mumbled. Then he raised his head to look at everyone for a moment, ”Is everybody okay?”

“Everybody is fine, except for you, Steve,” Natasha said and Steve relaxed back into the pillows.

He sighed while his eyes slowly slipped shut, ”Good, well done, team,”.

“You should all go home. Get some sleep,” Fury said from where he was leaning against the door frame.

Bruce nodded. “It has been a long and exhausting day. And I think Barton might manage to get himself killed out of boredom if we don't get home soon. We will be back first thing tomorrow morning,” he said and laid a comforting hand on Steve's ankle.

Steve only smiled in agreement, barely keeping his eyes open.

“I'm staying here,” Bucky said, not looking away from Steve.

“Buck-” Steve objected but Bucky didn't let him finish.

“No, I'm staying. I'll be fine here.”

“Let him, they have slept in the same bed before, he will be okay,” Tony said and Bruce raised an eyebrow. Bucky ignored him but Steve couldn't help the blush creeping onto his pale cheeks.

Natasha got up from her chair at the foot of the bed. “Alright, then let's go. See you tomorrow, Cap. Get some rest. Both of you.”

Bucky gave them a small wave. He waited until the door was closed again before he grabbed Steve's hand again and pressed it against his lips. Tears filled his eyes. “God, Steve. I was so scared.”

Steve turned his hand in Bucky grip and placed it on Bucky's cheek. Gently he swiped away a tear with his thumb.

“I'm okay, Buck. You're not getting rid of me that easily, I though you knew that by now.”

Bucky chuckled around the knot in his throat. “Those were the scariest hours of my life,” he whispered.

Steve didn't answer, just buried his face deeper in his pillow. Then he tapped the space next to him. Bucky hesitated and Steve glanced at him under half-shut eyelids.

“Come on, Buck. Like Tony said, nothing we haven't done before. And you need sleep.”

Bucky got up, slipped out of his socks and carefully placed himself next to Steve. The hospital bed was way smaller than the king sized bed at home so Bucky was pressed tightly against Steve's side. Warmth radiated of him and Bucky reveled in the feeling of Steve's body next to his. He turned his face to find Steve looking at him.

He was thrown back to the moment in their old apartment, their faces only inches apart. Steve must have remembered it as well since he moved closer until their noses were touching again.

“What are you doing?” Bucky whispered.

Steve's gaze flickered to his lips. “I was kind of hoping for a repeat.”

Bucky didn't dare breathe, only stared at Steve. Slowly Steve reached for his hand under the covers and brought it up to his cheek. It felt warm and soft under Bucky's palm.

“If you want.” Steve looked at him, eyes blue and so, so loving.

And Bucky couldn't resist anymore, he thought back to Tony's word about not wasting any day and how Steve had almost died today. Finally he pulled Steve closer and connected their lips. Steve let out a small gasp but returned the kiss eagerly. He buried his hand in Bucky's hair and pressed up against him.

Bucky groaned and went grab Steve's waist. Steve winced as Bucky's hand brushed his wound.

“Sorry, sorry,” Bucky apologized hastily and retreated.

Steve shook his head and pulled him back. “Shut up and keep kissing me.”

Bucky obeyed gladly.

After a while they separated, both in need for air. Bucky leaned his forehead against Steve's and closed his eyes.

“I can't believe I get to do this. I can't believe you're here. After seventy years.”

Steve ran his fingers through his hair and Bucky sighed at the touch.

“I waited so long and when I got out I promised myself to not wait anymore,” Steve said and Bucky looked up.

“I love you, punk,” he whispered with a grin. Then he pulled up the blanket until they were both covered to their chests, “You need to rest. I'll be right next to you when you wake up.”

Steve complied and in just a couple moments he had drifted off.

Bucky laid there, listening to him breathing and feeling his warmth. He closed his eyes.

They were going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading this story! Kudos and comments are appreciated and maybe I'll see you again in another story :)


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